


Fade In

by kettish



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, F/M, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon, Sheith Month 2020, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:00:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24988711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kettish/pseuds/kettish
Summary: Keith opens his eyes in the hospital after pulling a risky flight maneuver to save a kidnapped alien child; he was fifty two and just as good at flying as he ever was, but he wasn't sure if he pulled it off. Everything was blurry, Shiro was there for some reason, but it wasn't until Keith looked in a mirror that he truly began to worry.He looked like he was sixteen again.
Relationships: Allura/Lance (Voltron), Allura/Lance/Lotor (Voltron), Curtis/Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 213
Collections: Black Paladins Bang 2020





	Fade In

**Author's Note:**

> Black Paladin Big Bang 2020! My partner is the amazing @Lido_shka, who created so many pictures for this--!!!
> 
> This premise is inspired by adeadcatwithaflamethrower's "Re-Entry" series here on AO3. If you're a prequels and QuiObi fan, you should give it a read!

The fight broke out quickly, and ended just as fast. Griffin had been picking at Keith all week from what Shiro had seen, and he could feel that the other cadet had finally pushed too far. One second Griffin was in Keith's face sneering something Shiro couldn't hear from across the gym, and the next, Keith had decked him. 

Shiro started over at a dead sprint as he watched one of Griffin's friends come at Keith from behind and Keith pivoted towards his opponent and--

\--knocked himself clean out against a bar set up for squats on a nearby rack. 

"Keith!!!" Shiro shouted, too slow to cushion his fall, and slid into a kneeling position next to him on the floor. "Oh, shit. You, cadet,” he pointed at an onlooker, “send for medical. Tell them a student got knocked out. Griffin, don't you dare," he warned, and Griffin halted where he'd been edging away towards the door. That done, Shiro turned back to the prone body on the floor.

"Dammit, Keith," Shiro muttered, checking his pulse, his breathing. "Dumb move. All of it." He was so angry, but so worried; head injuries like this could be devastating for anyone, but especially for pilots. A moment of vertigo going 1500 mph could be disastrous, if not fatal, and flying was everything to Keith.

(Almost everything. Shiro knew Keith was quietly working through a crush on him. But Keith hadn't brought it up, and Shiro wanted to let him deal with it at his own pace. It was honestly a relief that Keith hadn't tried to make a move, even though Shiro and Adam had split.)

Medical arrived and took Keith to the care ward, and after a basic scan it was determined that he should be fine, and would awaken at any time. Shiro sighed, relieved, and plopped into a chair at Keith's bedside to wait.

\--

Time passed. Keith did not awaken, and Shiro became seriously concerned.

The doctor said it was strange, but that the scans indicated he was fine; head injuries could be tricky, and Keith would wake up soon. Another few hours passed, and Adam and Iverson both stopped by. 

"He'll be alright, Takashi," Adam said, handing him a plate of food and squeezing his arm comfortingly. They weren't really talking again yet, but this was a special circumstance. Shiro’s chest felt warm and his throat hot and he nodded, eyes shut against tears, and Adam left. For all his faults, Adam was a good and caring man, and it hurt still that they hadn't been able to work.

Iverson came by later, and once settled in a plastic chair, folded his arms and told Shiro that Griffin admitted to starting the fight by taunting Keith about Shiro, of all things, and that there wouldn't be formal disciplinary action, but...

"You're too close to each other," Iverson said, blunt as a spoon. Shiro looked away, upset but unwilling to take it out on Iverson; the older man was just trying to look out for Shiro like he had ever since Shiro’s grandfather passed in Shiro’s first year. "People talk. This is just going to get worse. You need to sit down with him and have a chat or you're likely to see pushback from the higher ups."

"I'm not abandoning him," Shiro said. He was tired; tired from the day, and also tired of this argument. "If I tell him we can't be friends, that's what he'll see it as. And he'd be right, especially if I do it just a week before I leave for two years.” He exhaled hard.

"He has so much potential, Mitch, and he's already improved since he arrived. Hasn't he?" Shiro pressed. Iverson dragged a hand down his face and sighed.

"You know he has," Iverson agreed. "And I know he has. But going up past me, I don't think anyone cares, Shirogane. Figure something out, or it's going to be bad."

"I will," Shiro said, and Iverson took him at his word, leaving with a nod and well wishes.

Shiro picked at his food and then dozed off in the chair, moonlight streaming in the open window and the stars wheeling overhead outside, calling for them both. He could go home and shower later, then come back and wait.

\-- 

The world spun when Keith gained consciousness again, even with his eyes closed. He must have really hit his head hard, or been hit; it’d been a long time since he had a concussion like this. There was that one bad battle with Voltron, and then before that, the time he brained himself on workout equipment in a fight back at the Garrison. He listened before opening his eyes out of long habit; if he didn’t know where he was, it was usually somewhere he didn’t want to be. He didn’t hear anything alarming, besides someone whose even, slow breaths told Keith they were calm and fit, so he was safe to look around--but as soon as he did, he squeezed his eyes shut again with a nauseous wheeze at how the room spun. 

“Keith! Hey, you’re up--let me get the nurse,” Shiro’s voice said, and Keith startled. He hadn’t heard Shiro--why hadn’t he heard him?-- “Hey, no, shhhh, don’t move.”

That wasn’t Shiro; Shiro had a slight whistle to his breathing from the scarring on his nose and his voice was rougher thanks to...whatever had happened during his captivity. But--it sounded like him, from before. Clear.

“Sh’ro?” he mumbled, wondering how badly he’d hurt himself, exactly. He’d been in a dogfight in an asteroid field, he struggled to remember, and the other fighter had...had…

“‘S the kid ok?” he demanded, grabbing Shiro’s arm in an iron grip, and almost threw up. “Oh, fuck--”

“James?” Shiro asked, nonplussed. He could hear near-frantic worry in Keith’s voice, which made no sense--Keith hated that kid, why would he sound so invested in his health? Maybe he was worried about getting kicked out if he’d done major harm. “You didn’t even hit him, Keith, he’s fine. It’s ok.” 

The nurses came in and bustled Shiro to the side, checking Keith's reflexes and feeling and vitals, and when the doctor entered and looked it over the diagnosis was what everyone expected: severe concussion. It wasn’t, however, nearly as bad as they’d initially expected with how long Keith had been out. 

“The brain is a funny thing,” the doctor said with an apologetic shrug. “It might be that staying unconscious that long was a defense mechanism that allowed his body to mend faster. Regardless, he’ll be down for the rest of the week, and after that, if his balance is good, he can go back to his room with a medical escort to wait out the rest of the healing period.”

“Not a problem. Thank you,” Shiro shook his hand firmly and then turned back to watch the nurses finish up with Keith. 

“The fuck...” Keith muttered once the staff had left. Shiro gave him a chiding look for his language, but truthfully it was a relief to hear him in good spirits.

“Concussion, like the doctor said,” Shiro supplied. “You went through the basic emergency medicine class, same as everyone. You should recognize the symptoms.”

“No’ all of ‘em,” Keith grumped. The nausea and dizziness and splitting headache, yes. Hallucinating the Captain of the ATLAS was back in mint condition? Not one he was familiar with. “Where’m I?”

“The long-term in-patient ward. You were out for a week, buddy.” Keith wishes he could turn his head to look at Shiro, but if he moves even an inch it feels like someone is stabbing him in the brain. Shiro’s voice sounds chipper, but shaky, and Keith’s heart sinks. He’d worried Shiro. Apparently enough to get him all the way out to this side of the galaxy.

“S’rry,” he muttered. Everything was doubling over itself. “Kid’s ok though?”

He hoped so. God, he hoped so. Keith had tried to pull a Hail Mary maneuver to avoid collision when the kidnappers he was following had dumped the poor child out of their ship in an asteroid field in nothing but a piloting suit. There’d been so many asteroids, and Keith had been certain there was no way he’d be able to avoid one and also avoid the kid, but obviously he, at least, had survived. 

“James is fine,” Shiro soothed. It wasn’t unusual for head injury patients to have trouble remembering things short term, he knew, and Shiro was patient. He could keep repeating himself if it helped Keith feel better.

“Not James, the--th’ Balmeran--” Keith grimaced before trying to sit up; Shiro pinned him back down carefully but Keith was already dry-heaving from the pain. Fuck. He didn’t even know if it’d been worth it, if he’d saved her. And Shiro was being a dipshit. “Sh’ro, please--”

“Rest,” Shiro ordered kindly, but firmly. Keith had always had a hard time resisting that tone, and as injured as he was, he didn’t stand a chance. Sleep overcame him, and he submitted gratefully.

\---

The next time he woke, it was dark, and he was alone. Good; Shiro needed to sleep more, from what Keith had seen in their occasional vid calls. What Keith suspected was a failing marriage combined with a high-pressure command position didn’t exactly make for a restful life. 

His eyes were slower to adjust than normal, and he struggled to trigger the shift to Galra night vision necessary to see in the low light; he managed, but only just. Stupid concussion. He slid his legs to the side, off the bed, and slowly, slowly sat up; his head throbbed, but much more manageably so. It must have been at least a full day since he was last awake.

The room didn’t spin, and Keith eased forward to standing with one hand gripping his IV line and the other holding himself upright on the bed rails. Things were a little shaky, but he felt steady enough to walk, so he did, heading towards the restroom at a snail’s pace as he measured the amount of damage he’d taken in the crash. Thank the stars for helmets, he thought fervently.

He tried looking down to watch his feet, but it set his head aching and swimming with vertigo once more. Fine; he could piss without looking at his dick. Without making a mess, even, he thought wryly. Everything felt weird; too cold, too big, too sensitive. His fingers felt worn thin, but it wasn’t until he had his hands on the sink that something truly felt off.

The sink was rather large, wasn’t it? Keith wasn’t so big that they’d need to put him in a room for a larger species. Did wherever he was not have human or Galran sized rooms? He frowned down at his hands, gripping the lip of the bowl, and then frowned harder, squinting down. 

The scar on his left hand was gone.

It had been a rather large scar, from his ring finger across the back of his hand to nearly the base of his thumb. It was from a nasty blow in a fight; his choices had been to either take the hit with his fist or his neck. He’d never fully recovered fine motor control with that hand.

The skin there was unblemished, smooth and free of any scars, actually, save for the small one at the meat of his palm from when he was in second grade. His foster parents had dropped a bottle while drinking and it had shattered. They hadn’t picked up all the pieces right away; Keith had sliced his palm open on one. That scar was there, but not the other one. Keith brought his hand closer, examining it. 

Nope.

His mind flashed to rows upon rows of cylinders, each with a fresh body, and Keith panted and swallowed with the effort not to vomit. Fuck. Fuck. Was he a clone? He wasn’t aware of any surgeon in the galaxy that could so flawlessly remove scar tissue as extensive as that one had been. What was going on? 

His gaze darted to the mirror, looking for the most obvious scar he had, and he cried out when it just wasn’t there. 

“No, no. Oh, no--” Panic broke off into confusion as his voice cracked like he was a teen again. “What…”

Where was his voice? This was...this was young Keith. Not Senior Blade Keith, fifty-two years old and showing very few signs of aging thanks to his mother’s side. Trembling, he reached up to touch his cheek; it was smooth, no facial hair to speak of. He tilted his gaze down slowly to see his body; also smooth, alarmingly enough, and...well, other parts were different than he remembered, too. He looked like he had before the end of human puberty and well before he even knew Galra had a second round.

“Time travel…?” Keith stared at his own bewildered face in the mirror and tried to understand. He needed Pidge and Hunk for this, but he had yet to see them; they might still be at Olkarion. Lance and Allura had last been on New Altea, discussing the gentle integration of their societies (and another, more personal, integration, if Keith was reading the way Lance looked at Allura and then Lotor correctly).

“Fuck,” he muttered again with fervor, then washed his hands and went back to bed. No use trying to figure all this out with a concussion when he might be hallucinating anyway.

The morning brought no clarity, instead supplying further confusion. Shiro stopped by, still bizarrely young and innocent, and spoke to Keith as though he were a child. Keith snorted once during the conversation but otherwise kept his answers monosyllabic, unsure of what was happening, and unwilling to give anything away until he was. (Once, he might have immediately told Shiro what was wrong, asked him for his help, and relied on him. Now...it had been quite some time since Keith felt like that was an option.)

Shiro sat in the shitty plastic bedside chair and talked about how Keith wasn’t going to get a formal disciplinary hearing--good, Griffin had honestly earned that one--and how he’d have to repeat this semester’s classes--bad, he was now behind his peers. Keith remembered this, all of it, down to the stupid joke Shiro made at the end of his spiel. He eyed Shiro’s rank, then the IV pump next to his bed and the comm on the wall, and finally got a hand on Shiro’s pad and--

“No you don’t,” Shiro said, snagging it easily out of Keith’s surprised grasp, “the doctor specifically said no reading or electronic screens until you’re 100% healed up. What do you need to do, anyway? Got a hot date you need to cancel?”

Keith snorted, then winced. “What day is it?”

“Wednesday, the, ah--15th. Why?”

“Ok, but what year.” Shiro’s frown reappeared momentarily, then smoothed out once more.

“Ah, the doctor mentioned you might have memory problems. Don’t worry, it’ll come back to you soon.”

“Shiro. I need. To know. What year it is. Now, please,” Keith ground out, jaw clenched as he kept his temper in check. Shiro looked taken aback, maybe even hurt a little, but he shook it off. 

“2314,” Shiro finally said, and Keith froze. 

Shiro eyed the way Keith had gone pale, and how white his knuckles were suddenly on the blanket and bed railing. Keith’s body language was stiff, his shoulders up near his ears, and his pupils were drawing up to a pin-point. Something was wrong in a way that had Shiro stepping in closer, setting his hands on Keith's shoulders in the hope of calming him.

“Keith? Talk to me,” Shiro urged gently. 

“Mirror,” Keith said faintly. Shiro’s eyebrows shot up as he sat back, confused. Stronger, again: “I need to see a mirror. Shiro, please.”

That did it, like Keith had known it would...on this Shiro, anyway. The Shiro that Keith was used to nowadays would apologize, but do what he thought was best. This Shiro still bent over backwards to try and help Keith. 

That, more than anything, told Keith that he might not be hallucinating.

Shiro hefted him up with an arm around his waist and let Keith throw an arm over his shoulder, then helped him over to the bathroom. Keith didn’t tell him it was unnecessary, and felt like a selfish prick about it as he leaned into his warmth, but god, it had been so long since Shiro had done anything besides shaking his hand or maybe a bro-hug on special occasions when Curtis was around. Like Keith was going to try and seduce him away if Shiro gave him any physical affection unchaperoned.

The bathroom mirror revealed nothing that he hadn’t seen before, and it terrified him.

“Why--why am I--” he stammered, hand coming up to touch his face. “I thought I was just imagining--”

There were no known space-time anomalies that could send someone back in time. Pidge and Coran had both said so, after they lost Allura, and if anyone would know, it was them. Keith had to be hallucinating. There was no other possibility. 

“Can you, uh--can you get Kosmo for me?” he managed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes to try and erase the image of himself before. He couldn’t bear to look. His face was blank, his hands empty, he was useless like this-- “Please? Shiro, please, I really…”

“I don’t--who is Kosmo?” Shiro asked. Keith bit back a scream only by sheer force of will.

“My fucking giant space wolf, Shiro, remember? Teleports, blue and glowing yellow fur, usually never leaves me alone anywhere? Kosmo!”

Keith must have been dreaming, Shiro thought, alarmed. He had been dreaming while he was in a coma, and didn’t understand that it wasn’t real. That was a thing, right? The doctor had said something about it. 

“I don’t know what you think happened, buddy, but you were out for a while. It was just a dream,” he said as gently as possible. Keith sounded attached to the...giant, glowing space wolf. “The doctor said it might seem really realistic. Like it happened.”

“It did,” Keith snarled. “Stop fucking around with me, Shirogane! Where’s my mom? Kolivan? Anybody?”

“I don’t--those people don’t exist!” Shiro snapped back, shocked by the use of his full last name, before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “Keith. Think about this. You don’t know your mom. And you are asking for a space wolf. That doesn't make sense.”

Keith shoved away from him, wincing, and wobbled his way over to his bed before sitting back down. He laid back, thumb worrying the side of his forefinger as his hands clenched at his sides, and resolutely stared away from Shiro. Shiro sighed, filled with immediate regret; Keith was confused after a major head injury, and Shiro yelling at him wasn’t helping at all. He didn’t understand why Keith was being so aggressive to him, but he obviously needed to switch tactics.

“Look,” he said, coming back to sit down on the edge of Keith’s bed. Keith ignored him. “I know this is confusing as hell right now. It’s going to be OK. Is there some way I can reassure you that I’m trying my best to help?”

Tension coiled in Keith’s stomach and made him nauseous. He was less sure every moment of the fact that he’d actually lived through this before, and leaning more towards Shiro’s explanation, but--the memory of Shiro telling him to give up his knife to the Blades came to mind. The Shiro that Keith fell in love with had always encouraged him to believe in himself and in his own experiences and convictions. 

That Shiro had also encouraged him to trust, but to verify if there was any doubt.

“I want my blade,” Keith said, and Shiro’s head whipped around to stare at him.

“I can’t bring your knife in here, you have nowhere to hide it!” Shiro hissed, glancing at the door to be sure it was closed. It felt right, though. In this body Keith couldn’t make his eyes or fingernails shift to more Galran features like he was used to, but his blade had transformed for him long before second puberty hit. He could test it and see if he was crazy, or disoriented, or whatever, or if the impossible had actually happened.

“I want my knife.” Shiro raised a hand to his face as though to wipe the stress from it, and Keith jolted as he realized that it was his real arm, not a prosthetic. He tucked that away for later contemplation once he knew if he was right or not.

“Fine. Fine, I’ll bring it,” Shiro finally said, words clipped short with frustration. Keith rested his head back on his pillow and closed his eyes, relieved. Finally, he’d figure this out. “I’ll swing by your dorm before I come tomorrow. Just--for now, stay in bed? Here? Do what the doctors say until I get back, please?”

“Fine.”

“Cool. Good talk, bud,” Shiro muttered, standing and stretching his shoulders and wrists out. Keith cracked an eye open to watch; it’d been a long time since he’d seen that routine. Shiro’s cloned body had been free of the disease.

“Thanks,” he said as Shiro reached the door; Shiro paused, and didn’t look back, but his shoulders relaxed just a little.

“See you tomorrow, Keith,” Shiro replied, and left.

\--

The next day was long and boring. Doctors came in and explained what his limitations were and what he could expect in the next few days; Keith knew most of them by heart, both from experience and from field medicine in the Blades.

And anyway, he remembered this injury. Griffin had been a little shit, Keith had swung out at him, and knocked himself out on a piece of gym equipment--he thinks. His memory of the week or so before and after that incident wasn’t great. He was certain he hadn’t been hospitalized for any length of time, though, yet here he was.

Something was different. Keith really needed to find Pidge. Maybe once Shiro saw him extend his blade, he’d believe him and help. Or...maybe he’d freak out. Last time, Shiro had already learned about aliens, and already knew who the enemy was. But from a cold start? Keith wasn’t sure that was best.

But then what was the alternative? Wait until the Galra finally showed up looking for Blue? That’d go well…

...or...Keith could go find her himself, and then show Shiro. Finding a giant mechanical lion spacecraft might be less of a shock than seeing Keith mentally link with a knife and turn it into a sword. And Keith was mostly sure that Blue would listen to him if he told her what had happened, and might be willing to at least show she was awake and aware.

“Ok. I have a plan,” he muttered. “Blade. Then Blue. And the Holts. I can do this.”

\---

Shiro waved cheerfully at the nurses’ station as he came into the ward; they’d seen him often enough that all he had to do now was press his hand to a scanner to sign himself in to go visit Keith. One of the nurses noticed and smiled briefly at him before going back to her work. It made Shiro feel guilty at how he was betraying their trust by bringing one of their inpatients an eight-inch knife.

He still did it, though, just as he always inevitably did what Keith asked. However he could reassure Keith and help him readjust to the real world, he would. He was sure that Keith didn’t intend to hurt himself or anyone else with it; he probably just needed the comfort of having his oldest, most treasured possession close.

“Hey, Keith, ” he asked, rapping on the door as he entered, “how are you doing?” Keith was still in bed, looking bored out of his mind as he gazed out the window; Shiro sympathized. No reading, no electronics, no physical exertion--there honestly wasn’t much Keith was allowed to do right now. 

“I’m all right,” Keith replied, eyes on the blue sky. Shiro looked around, then dragged a chair over to sit by the door, positioning it by the sink in the darker part of the room. It just happened to block the door from opening unimpeded; it wouldn’t keep it shut if someone tried to enter, but it would give them time to tuck Keith’s knife away.

The sound of the feet of the chair dragging against the tile caught Keith’s attention fully, and he turned to watch Shiro rearrange the furniture with interest. Understanding dawned quickly as Shiro came closer and unbuttoned his uniform, then pulled out Keith’s knife.

“Promise you aren’t going to do anything stupid?” Shiro asked. Keith rolled his eyes.

“I’m not about to stab the staff, Shiro,” Keith replied. Shiro rolled his eyes back at him, but pressed the weapon into Keith’s waiting hands anyway.

“Smartass,” he murmured, affectionate, and Keith’s mouth quirked into a smirk.

“Better than being a dumbass,” Keith quipped, and Shiro laughed.

“There. Just how you left it,” he pointed out, and sat down on the foot of the bed, leaning back onto his hands. “Happy now?”

“Yeah. Thank you,” Keith said in a heartfelt voice. Shiro felt a light flush tinge his ears and cheeks, but ignored it.

“Glad I could help you feel better,” Shiro said. Keith eyed him, then shifted his focus back to his knife. It was an old thing, but ridiculously sharp considering he had never seen Keith hone it. Keith turned it over in his hand, blade facing him as he inspected it carefully. 

Please, let this be my mother’s blade, Keith prayed, and then unwrapped the handle with careful hands and drawn breath.

Underneath the old fabric a clear orb sat, the Blade of Marmora symbol glowing, and Keith let out his breath. He felt hope rising in his chest as he stared at it; there was still a chance his mind had made up the whole thing from having seen this symbol before, but he felt convinced now that it had been real. What that meant, he wasn’t sure, except that his mother was alive somewhere, out there in the stars, waiting for him and ready to welcome him home. That was enough.

“You said I dreamed while I was unconscious,” Keith said, thumbing over the orb reverently. “I dreamed that we went to space, and that I met my mother. She wasn’t from Earth.”

“So you dreamed you were half alien?” Shiro asked, amused. “It would make sense. Your mind turning your feeling of alienation from your peers into a plot device.” 

Keith rolled his eyes at the little snicker of amusement Shiro made as he said “alienation,” obviously finding himself very clever, and pressed on.

“Yeah. But she was part of a rebel organization fighting against an empire thousands of years old. They were called the Blade of Marmora, and their knives were tied to their life force, although they could be earned by other people.” Shiro was listening, rapt; he’d always had a soft spot for sci-fi, and the story of the Blades was, in all fairness, pretty fucking cool on paper. Keith tapped the handle with his finger.

“The blade they carried wasn’t just a knife. Its owner could will it to take a sword form. This one is mine, and I first activated it about...a year and a half from now, I think, after taking the Trials to earn it.” Shiro watched him toss the knife just high enough to snap his hand back onto the handle so he held it parallel to the ground. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as Keith closed his eyes. 

Purple bathed Keith’s features and the bedspread suddenly as the blade seemed to liquify into light and then reshape itself into the form of a short sword. Shiro jerked back, nearly falling off the bed as one hand hit air instead of bedding, but he managed to flail backwards toward the foot of the bed, shocked. The light died back just as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving Keith holding the curved blade with a look of triumphant satisfaction as he grinned.

“It wasn’t a dream,” he said forcefully, and the blade shortened itself again as Keith let his hand fall to the blanket and leaned back. Though his eyes were shut, Shiro could see moisture pooling and then sliding down his cheeks. “My mom’s out there, Shiro, and we have a big job to do. We need to find the others and Blue.”

Shiro’s heart continued pounding in his chest as he tried to sort through what had just happened and make it fit into his previous worldview. It didn’t work; there just wasn’t a way to reckon what he’d just seen with what he thought he knew. 

“Keith, what the fuck,” Shiro finally said, and then, pausing thoughtfully, “and what the fuck is Blue?”

\---

“What do you mean the others? Other aliens?” Shiro demanded, face pale and hands shaky as he reached over to take Keith’s blade. Keith allowed it.

“Only half alien. And no, there’s…” God, this all sounded fucking dumb when he tried to put it into words. “There’s a weapon, here on Earth. Part of one. It’s sentient, and that alien empire I mentioned is looking for it. We need to find it first.”

“Or what?” Shiro looked more frazzled by the second.

“Or they take over the little bit of the universe they haven’t managed to conquer so far, including our planet, and we’re all enslaved and our home exploited for its resources?” Keith hazarded. Shiro’s eyes went impossibly wide. Keith shrugged. “The norm. It’s all pretty sci-fi standard, actually. Now c’mon, I need your help, we’ve got to get out of here.”

“You’re still injured,” Shiro disagreed. Keith suppressed a sigh; he should’ve known that this would be the one thing Shiro was sure of. 

“If we can get the other Pa--pilots and get to the weapon, then we can get to the Castleship, and they have healing pods there.” Maybe he could bargain his way into that. “I won’t even be piloting, if it goes like last time. Blue wasn’t mine.” Shiro looked even more dubious now.

“If you’re not piloting, and I’m not either, I’m not sure I trust them,” he grumbled, crossing his arms mulishly. Keith’s eye was drawn to where the gesture pushed Shiro’s chest out, and then he looked away; getting used to seventeen-year-old Keith’s hormones was going to be a bitch. 

“If it helps, Blue piloted herself the first time,” Keith offered. Shiro scowled, and Keith could practically see him digging in his heels. Time to pull out the big guns again. 

“Please?” he asked softly, giving Shiro his best wide-eyed, sad-scared-teen look. Or he tried, anyway; it’d been a long time since he’d had to use it. Shiro gave him some serious stink eye in return.

“That’s not going to work,” he warned. Keith frowned, trying to look innocently confused. It must’ve worked at least a little, because Shiro’s scowl deepened even further. Ok, switch tactics.

“We have to, Shiro. Nobody else can,” he said plainly, stating fact. He said it straight-faced, eyes fixed on Shiro’s, steady and strong. Shiro stared right back at him; neither of them broke eye contact for long moments, a battle of wills. 

But whatever else Shiro was in the future, he had always been one thing: dutiful.

“Say that we do this,” he said slowly. “Leaving aside the whole ‘you’re a time traveler’ thing, because that’s going to take a while to process--what happens when we find, uh, Blue? What are we running into?”

Fondness lit an acrid candle flame in Keith’s chest. He’d left that feeling behind, long ago, accepting that Shiro was no longer part of his life in any meaningful way. But this reminded him again, painfully, of how close they had been. Shiro said ‘we,’ not ‘you.’ Keith swallowed against the feeling, still looking steadily at Shiro as he thought on his answer.

“War,” he finally settled on reluctantly. He’d give so much to leave Shiro out of it, this time, to protect him and keep him somewhere safe. Something occurred to him that made him draw a quick breath. Shiro won’t lose his arm this time, if we go now instead of in a year. 

“But you’ll be in a war sooner or later whether we do this or not,” he said, shaking the thought off for later consideration. This was about their duty to the universe, and their chance to save lives. So many lives. “The Galra will come. If we go now, we have extra time to prepare, and we may even be able to avoid them finding Earth all together; I’m not sure when it first came up on their radar.”

“I can’t...Keith, I can’t take you into a war zone. You’re seventeen,” Shiro said. His shoulders had relaxed, and he looked pained; he uncrossed his arms to rub at a wrist before catching himself and putting his fists on his thighs. 

“I’m fifty-two, actually, but I guess you couldn’t have known that,” Keith offered, wry. “Being seventeen again is, uh...not ideal.” Shiro barked a startled laugh.

“Holy shit. How big do you get? Ever actually manage to beat my bench press?” Shiro asked with a grin. It was shaky and edged in stress, but it was encouraging. “Ha. Bet I still kick your ass on the bikes.”

You haven’t been near me in at least five years, and probably a bike for at least that long, Keith thought, and shoved the feelings away again. This was all going to come back and bite him in the ass the minute he was alone, he knew, but he couldn’t afford a breakdown about future Shiro’s and his relationship right now. The guilt that Shiro would feel would definitely be a handicap; Keith needed Shiro on his top game. 

He must not have done a good job. Shiro frowned thoughtfully, sitting up straight.

“Keith?” Keith shook his head.

“Later. You were still alive and happy before I woke up here, don’t worry.” Shiro’s eyes narrowed as he studied Keith’s face, but he nodded and let it go. 

“OK. We need to get the other pilots out to the--Blue.” If I tell Shiro it’s a lion he’s going to decide we’re both nuts and keep us here. “They’re cadets here. We should go as soon as we can get them up and out.”

“Are you kidding me--Keith,” Shiro argued, “I can’t just kidnap kids, actual kids!”

“We don’t have a choice right now!” Keith snapped back. “They’re the ones that I know can pilot the weapon, and we need to get moving now.”

“How the fuck did a bunch of kids get their hands on a--a space superweapon, anyway?” Keith glowered.

“I can feel it,” he said, and tried not to flush at how stupid it must sound. “I’m sensitive to the kind of energy it uses. So I tracked it down while you were…”

“What, on my way to Kerberos?”

“Yeah.” That was a safe thing to say.

“So you can feel it.” This time Keith couldn’t keep the flush down. It stung, feeling like Shiro didn’t trust him; even in the future, Shiro had never doubted his abilities when it came to the field. Rather than continue arguing, he just stared at Shiro, letting him process and decide what he wanted. Finally, Shiro sighed, slumping back in the chair and covering his face with both hands as he groaned.

“Fine. Fine. I can’t believe I’m doing this. If we get caught…”

You weren’t going to complete the Kerberos mission anyway. Keith sighed.

“If it helps, you know one of them already. Katie Holt.” Shiro rocked forward fast and startled him, clapping his hands down on his thighs and giving Keith a desperate look.

“I absolutely cannot kidnap Matt’s baby sister and drag her on some wild space mission,” Shiro said. “Matt will find a way to murder me in my sleep, if Sam and Colleen don’t get to me first.” Keith laughed; that was accurate.

“So bring Matt,” Keith suggested. “He’s been through the same training as you. And when we found him again before, he had held his own out there and was a huge asset.” 

“That might work,” Shiro said, voice thoughtful. “Fuck. Keith, this is crazy.” 

Keith grinned, showing his teeth.“Wait til you see Blue.”

\---

Getting Lance and Hunk was as simple as Shiro offering flight tutoring. Keith tried not to be a jackass, but he had honestly forgotten how gullible they were at this age, as well as how much of a jackass Lance was; Hunk only wondered aloud about where they were going, but didn’t fight it, and Lance ignored everything in favor of enthusing over his prospective lessons and taking cheap shots at Keith. Then again, they didn’t have the life experience Keith had, even the first time around, and Shiro was imminently trustworthy, so Keith could understand. They loaded into Shiro’s car (too many of them for the hoverbike to carry safely) and headed out.

Keith felt bad that he couldn’t warn them. It would’ve been good for them to call their families...Keith thought about it. Hard. But he couldn’t risk saying anything until they got to Blue where he’d have some credence to his claims, so he kept quiet. Maybe they’d have a chance to call before they left; Keith resolved to try and make that time, to spare their families the stress and grief of them just disappearing. 

\---

Getting Pidge and Matt on board was an adventure. 

Shiro:  
>Matt, open your window

Matt:  
>why are you awake  
>and here

It took some convincing, but eventually he unlocked his window and let them in. It was hilarious watching Shiro twist himself up to get through the space, and also gave Keith an excellent show of his ass and thighs in his jeans. Again: damn teenage hormones.

“What’s up, bad boys?” Matt asked, teasing. Shiro rolled his eyes, dusting himself off. Keith had forgotten how fastidious Shiro used to be about his appearance; it was a little funny and a little adorable.

“I’m a time traveler, and I need you and your sister to come with us to space,” Keith said point-blank, and Matt gawked before bursting into laughter.

“Shiro, you didn’t tell me he has a sense of humor!” Matt cackled, turning to Shiro. Shiro stood there awkwardly, hands in his coat pockets and face red as he looked away. Matt’s eyebrows flew to his hairline as he looked back and forth between them, and then he squinted at Keith.

“You hit your head recently, right?” he asked. Keith sighed deeply, fond and frustrated in parts.

“How can I prove this to you?” he asked. The Holts were best approached bluntly and with evidence where fantastic claims were concerned, Keith knew from experience. Matt gave him a weird look before turning to Shiro.

“Why are you here with this tiny concussed gremlin at ten at night?”

“Keith, show him the thing? Please?” Shiro asked instead, and Keith huffed a laugh before pulling his blade out. Matt backed up a step, looking alarmed. Keith held it out as he had before and told the blade to extend. It obeyed as it always had (once he’d figured out how) and Matt’s jaw dropped.

“How--? Turn it back,” he demanded, stepping forward to examine it, immediately fascinated, and Keith couldn’t help but grin as he did. “Okay, now again.” Keith complied and watched that fire spark in Matt’s eyes that he always got when presented with new technology. 

“You’re serious,” Matt said, wonderingly, and then looked up at Shiro, eyes wide. “You’re both serious. Space? Shiro? What the fuck? No, wait, time travel--?”

“We can explain on the way. Can you get Katie?”

“Whoa, wait a minute, nuh-uh,” Matt protested immediately. “I’m not taking my sister anywhere like this. Definitely not to space.”

“We need her,” Keith said firmly, and handed Matt his knife; it distracted him momentarily as he turned it over in his hand, feeling along the hilt and trying to discern if its transformation was real or not. “There’s a piece of an alien weapon here on Earth that we need to get off-planet, and she pilots one of the other pieces.”

“A weapon?” Matt looked up sharply, and Keith watched him put things together. “Who’s looking for it?”

“Evil galactic empire.” Shiro groaned and palmed his face in the background as Matt gave Keith an incredulous look. Keith shrugged. “It is. Don’t know what to tell you.” 

“Anything?” Matt said, exasperated. 

“Look. Matt. Come with us so Keith can prove there’s some kind of alien superweapon, and then you can decide from there,” Shiro cut in. Matt looked thoughtful, then shrugged.

“Sure. Why not? Tomorrow’s a day off.” Shiro made a strangled laughing sound and sat down on Matt’s bed with a thud.

“Katie,” Keith reminded him, and Matt groaned before heading out of the room to get her. There was the sound of his footsteps, heavy on the bare wood floor, and then the tapping of his hand on a door. A minute later Keith heard the unforgettable tones of ‘Pidge who has been disturbed from her slumber,’ aka ‘terror incarnate,’ and listened with vast amusement as she gave Matt the sharp side of her tongue for waking her. Matt said something else, then silence; then, more movement and they came in together, Pidge shoving her shirt down and carrying a hoodie, pants pockets turned out like she’d just pulled them on and excitement in her eyes.

It was a tight fit getting them all in the vehicle, and tighter still because Matt and Pidge insisted on seeing Keith transform his blade repeatedly. Lance and Hunk gawked from their seats, looking bewildered.

“I found a spaceship,” he finally told them, deciding he’d get into the time travel thing another day. Their eyes bugged out even more and they began pelting Shiro and him with questions and demands. 

Shiro drove on, jaw set, hands nonchalant on the steering wheel. Keith looked him over; he couldn’t pinpoint why, but he knew Shiro wasn’t as relaxed as he looked. 

\---

He was crazy. This was insane.

Shiro was risking his spot on the Kerberos mission for this. He’d lost Adam over this mission. Yet here he was, driving a car full of teens to go find a mystery spaceship in the desert at night. He saw Keith looking at him from the corner of his eye and turned his gaze back to the road hastily. Since he’d woken up, Keith had been remarkably different. I suppose that makes sense, if he’s actually fifty-two.

Fifty-two. Jesus. Shiro didn’t even know where to start. Maybe the most insane part of this was that he actually believed Keith. The kid had a gravity to him now that Shiro couldn’t deny, a knowing look and firm demeanor. Supreme confidence in what he was saying. Which he still would if he was hallucinating, Shirogane. 

Too late now. Shiro followed Keith’s directions for the better part of an hour until they reached a large outcropping that rose from the sand like a monument. There were others around, but this one was large, with a cave mouth a short climb from the ground. They spilled out of the vehicle and headed over.

They had to push and pull Hunk and Pidge up to it, but everybody made it up in the end, and then they all paused, staring at the utter darkness of the cave entrance before them. Matt and Shiro exchanged glances, and then looked at Keith; Hunk and Lance did the same, then looked at Shiro, and back at the cave again.

“So uh...it’s super unsafe to go into caves in the dark,” Hunk finally said. Keith frowned thoughtfully; that was true, and he could understand the difference between agreeing to go see an abstract concept versus completely ignoring known safety precautions to do so. He wished he had his flight helmet with its built in lantern, either the one from his Paladin armor or his Blade flightsuit, but wishing did no good. 

“I’ll go first,” he said. “Just stay a few steps behind me, in case I fall or something. Shiro, can I use your data pad?”

“Do you one better,” Shiro said, and held up a flashlight. Keith shot him a grateful look, glad that one of them was prepared, and tried to take it, but Shiro didn’t let go. He looked down at Keith and firmly said, “We go together.”

God, he wished. Keith swallowed, throat suddenly dry, and nodded; Shiro let go, and Keith shined the light ahead before leading the way.

It took a few seconds, but Keith heard the rest of them following, and thanked the stars that they did. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if they’d refused.

The murals were still there, and Keith shone the light up onto them, explaining how he found them the first time. 

“I felt drawn to them. It was the strangest thing I’d ever felt in my life,” he recalled, reaching up to touch the rock reverently. “Took me weeks to find all of them; there were a number of drawings like this in the area, and they all pointed to this one.”

When did he have weeks to come look for this? Shiro wondered. The Garrison didn’t have a summer break like traditional schools did; it was closer to a military training model, with a few weeks in between class rotations.

“When was this?” he asked over the sound of feet crunching against rock and sand behind them. 

“After I was out of the Garrison,” Keith said. He didn’t say that it was because he’d been kicked out, was half out of his mind with grief, and more open to Blue’s call, but he saw Shiro looking at him and wondered if his face was giving away more than he wanted. Maybe his poker face was rusty, or whatever the equivalent was when you knew how to do a thing, but the body you were in had never done it before.

“I should’ve been back before you graduated,” Shiro said. A dark suspicion was growing in the back of his thoughts--several, actually. Had Keith been kicked out? Had Shiro not come back from Kerberos? Had something worse happened?

“C’mon. It’s a bit further this way,” Keith told them rather than answer him, and waited for the others to catch up. They seemed to have forgotten to stay a certain distance behind him; Keith said nothing, and when the paintings lit up and the floor collapsed beneath them, it was a relief that he could count them all along for the ride.

They shot out into the pool underneath the slide, and Keith gasped as he resurfaced, shocked; he’d forgotten how fucking cold the water was! He watched Shiro drag Pidge by her shirt back towards the shore until she started wading along on her own, and Lance was already stepping up onto land, Hunk just a little behind him. He laughed--of course he, the desert boy, was last out of the water.

“Oh my god,” Lance screeched, shocked. Keith looked up to see the Blue Lion sitting in the cavern in front of them.

Hello, Blue, he told her fondly, along the old pathways of his mind where he used to speak with Red and Black. A flicker of cognizance licked along the same way, and then warm welcome. 

Hello, Black Paladin.

I brought your Paladin, he replied. She didn’t move but Keith had the impression of her swinging her gaze to Lance.

“Is it--does anybody else feel like it’s looking at them? No? Just me?” Lance asked. Keith laughed, then held up his hands with a grin when Lance rounded on him. “What’re you laughing at, Mr. Disciplinary Problems?”

“She is looking at you,” Keith said. Lance paled, looking back and up at Blue again fearfully. Incredible to think that this insecure jackass of a kid would become a loving and supportive man some day. “You’re her pilot. Go say hello.”

“Her pilot? What? There’s no way--” Lance froze mid-sentence then exclaimed, “You all heard that right? It growled at me!”

“Just go touch the barrier,” Keith said, walking forward to touch it himself. “Look, it’s not going to hurt you. Try.”

“You’re not in charge,” Lance grumbled, but he obeyed, and jerked back when the barrier fell. Blue stood, scaring off everyone except Keith, who stood calmly in front of her, and Shiro, who looked terrified but stood his ground, stepping in front of Keith protectively. When the Lion roared, Keith felt it in his bones both literally and spiritually; the sound touched deep, down in the spaces where Black and Red used to fill, a vast relief.

Shiro had a hand out and to his side, warning Keith back; Keith gently moved it back against Shiro’s side. Shiro looked back at him, surprised, then jerked his gaze forward again when Blue crouched down with a cacophony of mechanical sounds to invite them in. Keith squeezed Shiro’s hand once reassuringly before moving around him and forward, just a step behind where Lance bounded in.

“Come on. Don’t you want to see an alien spacecraft?” he called back to all of them, and chuckled when the sound of scrambling feet echoed back. Matt, Pidge, and Hunk shoved past him excitedly, running after Lance. 

Keith turned to peer back out of the Lion’s mouth and saw that Shiro was still standing there and staring, pale. Ah. It’s becoming real for him, Keith realized. He padded down and stopped just in front of Shiro, looking up at him, musing that he hadn’t been shorter than Shiro in years. This Shiro was still young, though. He was untouched by the trauma that was approaching, which Keith wished he could prevent but knew he couldn’t, not entirely. There were a few things he could spare him, though, and this was one of them.

“Out of all the things in the universe, the Lions are one of the few that you can count on to never hurt you,” Keith said quietly. “They have their own rules, and minds, but once you bond with them, they’ll cross the galaxy for you.”

Shiro tore his gaze from the spacecraft with difficulty, looking down at him; his eyes searched Keith’s, and after a moment, he nodded.

“Alright. Let’s go,” he said, and Keith led them into the Lion’s mouth.

\--

Years later, Shiro would reflect that Keith had failed to mention a few things.

First, he never brought up that, in their original timeline, Shiro was kidnapped and experimented on and lost an arm. Shiro didn’t find out about that until one evening long after they had rescued Keith from Haggar and her druids, where Keith lost an arm, and Keith was experimented on. It was during their long trip back to Earth, and they were sitting outside of Black, Keith’s Lion. Keith was hopped up on pain meds following the exhausting fight between them, and he was bitter. So, so bitter...until something seemed to occur to him, and he laughed, and the tension drained out of his body.

“What?” Shiro asked, amused and relieved at the change in behavior. 

“It’s not you this time, so it’s--it’s ok,” Keith slurred, leaning against him heavily. There was a sheen in his eyes that Shiro tactfully didn’t mention. “‘M glad. Yeah. You didn’t deserve what they did to you, Shiro.”

Shiro’s chest tightened, making it hard to breathe; ordinarily, Keith would have noticed immediately and asked, but he was too out of it right now. He wrapped his arms (both arms, whole, which was apparently only thanks to Keith--and oh, that was a bitter pill to swallow, that somehow Keith had taken the wound meant for him--) around him and held on, rocking them gently as he cried and Shiro cried with him.

Second, Keith never told them that they originally lost Allura. It was only thanks to his stubborn insistence that they didn’t lose her again, as well as his dogged determination to monitor all members of the team. Shiro still isn’t certain how they did it...one minute, Keith was pushing toward Allura in that strange space in-between, and turned to say something to Hagga--Honerva, and the next they were hale and whole and back in Black’s cockpit. 

Third, Shiro figured out that Keith was in love with him, and Shiro-from-Before was a fucking idiot who pushed him away. Shiro wasn’t sure how, and wasn’t sure he wanted to know, based on the haunted look Keith got the first time he talked about it. 

He wasn’t an idiot, Shiro reflected, with a scowl. The fear fluttering in his chest was still there, just as Other-Shiro must have felt, but Now-Shiro? Now-Shiro knew it was worth it. It was the swoop of your stomach just before taking a nosedive that you know you’ll pull out of cleanly, leaving behind adrenaline and pride.

It just...always seemed like the wrong time to talk to Keith about it. So, maybe he was an idiot after all.

After it was all finally over, when they were in the med bay watching the news talk about Zarkon’s death and the inner squabbling of the remainders of the empire that were being steadily taken apart by the Voltron Coalition, Shiro lay on the hospital bed next to Keith as he recovered from quintessence overexposure. He looked at Keith, at his exhausted but beautiful eyes, at the silk black of his hair, of the way there was no trace of baby fat left on his cheeks and dense, wiry muscle padding his frame. Keith glanced back, then tilted his head to lean against Shiro's shoulder, tired but careful, and that's what did it. After everything--after Shiro literally cut Keith's arm off--he was still being considerate of Shiro’s health over his own. Shiro tilted Keith’s head back up by the chin, ignoring the awkward angle, and leaned in, and kissed him. 

That night turned out to be the best of Shiro’s life thus far, and in the morning, there was a lot of blushing, and a lot of quiet talk. When it was time for breakfast, the nurse brought Keith’s food, and was kind enough not to say a word about how they didn’t let go of each other's hands.

There was only one thing that remained left to see to, and Keith dreaded it as much as he knew it was necessary. Once he had recovered, and Shiro was off taking care of Garrison and Voltron matters, Keith left to go track down Allura.

“Keith! You’re looking so much better,” she greeted him with a hug and a beaming smile. “I’m so glad you came to visit, I’ve missed you. We all have.”

“Yeah, uh…” I’ve been busy with my new boyfriend and the bed in his quarters, he couldn’t say, and he flushed. “Sorry. I’ve been busy.” Allura’s smile turned sly and mischievous as she brought him to her kitchenette to make tea; she and Coran had taken a liking to yerba mate, saying it tasted like chocolate without having the dreaded dairy component. 

“So I’ve heard,” she teased, pulling out cups and offering one silently to Keith, eyebrows raised; he nodded, and she set it down to fill alongside her own. “You and Shiro, yes?”

He couldn’t let himself think about Shiro and what he’s leaving behind while he did this, not after a lifetime and a half of pining for it. It would break him. He nodded tersely, and Allura paused, tipping the already-hot kettle back up to stop pouring as she took him in.

“Keith? What is it?” He swallowed against the heat in his throat, then cleared it and took a deep breath.

“How am I getting back?” 

She stared at him, uncomprehending. 

“I’m sorry, how are you what?”

“How am I getting back,” he asked again between gritted teeth. “You know I don’t belong here.” She stared at him for a long moment before she started, realizing.

“Keith, you don’t have to go back!” Keith flinched as though she’d slapped him, before snapping back.

“Of course I do! I don’t--I’m not from here.I’ve got to be messing something up if I stay.” Her ears tilted downward a little and she set the kettle down; he took a half step back as she stepped forward, but then froze as she put her arms around him and drew him into a hug.

“You absolutely belong here.” Keith’s fists clenched; he ducked his head. 

There’s no way. I could never get to keep this. 

“When you told me your story,” she said, “you remember what the last thing you saw was, yes?”

“I--I was flying, trying not to hit a kid, I think--”

“You told me that you tried something you weren’t sure you could do,” she pressed. One of her hands moved to her pocket and drew out her phone, tapping a message in and sending before stowing it safely again and going back to what she was doing. “I have never, in the entire time I’ve known you, heard you say you weren’t sure you could do something in flight.”

There was an implication there. Keith didn’t like it, had avoided considering it for as long as he’d been awake in his younger body. 

“You died, Keith,” she said gently. “And something brought you here. I suspect the Black Lion, to be honest; you have always had an unusually strong connection with her, and that’s the only way I could see it happening. The moment of your death would have been the easiest and last moment she had in which to do it.”

There was a knock at the door, quiet and just two taps; Keith knew that knock. It slid open with a chirp and Shiro came in; his footsteps paused briefly until he spotted them and then hurried over. 

“Sweetheart,” Shiro said, distressed, and then there was the warmth of his body lined up against Keith’s back. 

“You belong here, Keith,” she finished. Her words had the unerring accuracy of someone who had been in his head before, a blessing and a curse in equal measure but the former more than the latter right now. “You’ve belonged here since the moment you arrived. Please, don’t go running because you’re afraid to stay.” 

She detangled, giving him a kiss on the cheek as she often did to all the Paladins, and went back to making her own tea. Shiro took the opportunity to lift from under his shoulders and knees and carry him home; the last Keith saw was Allura wiping her eyes delicately and smiling at him as they left.

Later, Pidge agreed. As much as Keith wanted to believe Allura...he needed to know he wasn’t hurting anyone by staying. 

“The entire timeline has changed,” she said over Shiro’s coffee table, cross legged in front of him in a chair while he sat on the couch. “I don’t even know where we’d begin trying to untangle the past to find exactly where you’re from anymore. And to be perfectly honest, I don’t want to send you back. We need you here. And I think Allura’s right.”

Shiro squeezed Keith’s prosthetic hand. Keith let out a shaky breath and squeezed back.

“Ok. No more talking about leaving.”

“No leaving,” Pidge corrected. Keith laughed quietly; if he’d been trying to get around it, yeah, that’s how he would’ve phrased it.

“No leaving,” he agreed.

Keith mourned it, surprisingly. That other reality. Not a lot--he wasn’t a masochist--but that universe had a Shiro who still went through all that pain, who married some bland technician on the bridge, who ended up with his dreams and ambition crushed into fine dust and was left trying to sweep some of it back together. There was a Shiro there who wasn’t happy, but wasn’t unhappy, either, and Keith would never be able to help him.

That had always been Shiro’s choice, though, Keith realized. For the very first time the thought helped, rather than hurt.

Keith was happy here. He wanted to stay with this Shiro, the one who recognized his worth and loved him. He’d done all he could for the other one.

So he did.


End file.
